Masquerade
by RunningInAir
Summary: "Even the meekest become bold behind a mask." It's sixth year and Hogwarts hosts a Masquerade Ball on Halloween. Draco is taken by a masked girl...but when he finds out that it's Hermione Granger, their lives are forever altered, in more ways than one. Dramione. One-shot.


A/N: Just wanted to say that the song that I listened to a lot while writing this one is "A Stranger" by A Perfect Circle. I think it fits extremely well. Enjoy and please review!

**October 31, 1996**

A multicolored sea of gyrating bodies greeted Draco when he stepped through the giant double doors of the Great Hall. Everywhere he looked there were ball gowns of different shades, black tuxedos, and above all else - masks. Each face was covered; each identity hidden. Tonight was All Hallows Eve, and Hogwarts was celebrating as it usually did - with a Halloween dance.

Draco thought these events were over-rated. Generally, the professors would get too excited and the decorations would end up over the top and more than a little annoying – sometimes they ended disastrously. He would never forget the one year they tried a 50's themed dance. A jukebox had been brought in and charmed to play hits of that decade from around the world. Unfortunately, Peeves had gotten a hold of it beforehand and it only spewed out insults to whoever tried to select a song...or make it stop. While Draco found a (usually) inanimate object calling Professor McGonagall a wrinkled, old hag just as funny as anyone else, it had certainly disrupted the dance. That was nothing compared to the explosive cupids from last year's Valentine's dance, though...

Looking around, it seemed that this night might actually be a success for once, but he certainly wasn't going to hold his breath. It would only take a matter of seconds for Finnigan to light something on fire or Longbottom, the witless wonder, to inevitably blunder up and cause the whole shebang to come crashing down around their ears.

His eyes flicked around from patron to patron, the crowd more than triple the size of Hogwarts' student body. Dumbledore had decided to invite a few other Wizarding schools, and as much as Draco hated to accredit any good idea to that old fool, even he had to admit that with so many people it was nearly impossible to know who anyone truly was under their mask - it added more mystery and excitement to the ball. Usually automatically recognizable by his bright blond hair, Draco was able to blend in with the crowd tonight as there were many other students with blond hair the same shade as his.

All in all, he was glad that Pansy had persuaded him to come. He had wanted to hide from the sure-to-be disastrous event in the common room, comfortably arranged in his favorite armchair by the fire, his favorite Tolstoy collection in his hands; but she had talked it up with promises of mystique and intrigue, like the ball would be some sort of sensual extravaganza. Turns out, she hadn't been far off. Where she was now, though, was anyone's guess. He looked curiously around him as he realized that he really couldn't decipher the identity of anyone around him - interesting.

"Luke?"

He turned to find a girl standing right behind him. All he could see of her face was a pair of bright green eyes. They regarded him curiously through an intricate mask of red and pale purple, small peacock feathers framing the outer edges. He raised an eyebrow before he realized that she couldn't see it - his black and white mask covered most of his face.

"I'm sorry. You've got the wrong person."

"Oh, so sorry. I, uh, I think you someone else."

Her accent was decidedly French. He waved a hand, his lips twitching into a smirk automatically as he dismissed her and turned back to find the refreshment table, reveling in the knowledge that he was just as unrecognizable as anyone else. Skirting around the dance floor, where it appeared a good chunk of the gathered students were trying to fuck with their clothes on, he made it to the laden table without getting stepped on, bumped into, or asked to dance - a heroic feat, to be sure.

Hogwarts had apparently spared no expense to see that snacks from each country were represented in full. The table was nearly the width of the room and it was piled high with a variety of foods and drinks. He reached for an interesting looking pastry only to bump into someone else's hand.

"Oh, sorry!"

Again, he found himself face to face with a girl he didn't recognize.

He could barely tell over the thump of the music that her accent was British, but seeing as how Hogwarts wasn't the only school in this country, that did little to help narrow down her identity. Shockingly brilliant brown eyes looked at him out of a deep blue mask. It wasn't as flashy as most of the others he had seen, but that only seemed to make it more beautiful; it was understated elegance. Like most of the girls here, this witch appeared to have magicked the mask to stay against her skin because there was no band wrapping around her head - ringlets of deep brown hair fell unobstructed down her shoulder blades; some pinned on top in an elegant fashion, a few tendrils framing her face.

For once in his life, Draco found himself momentarily tongue-tied. "Uh, no problem." He stepped back to allow this girl access to the tray. _What are you doing, Draco? _He berated himself. _Sure, she looks pretty now, but she might look like a banshee without all the trappings. Still...why not? It was a masquerade, right? Just flirt, dance, woo - all the things you know how to do - and then you won't ever have to see her again. The perfect one-night-stand._

"I don't even know what these are, to be honest," he joked.

Her laugh was like a soft tinkling of bells, barely audible over the bass pumping through the air. "They're called _Petit Fours_."

"That sounds French."

She nodded as she picked up two of the little snacks. "It is. _Petit Fours_ translates to "small oven" - because they look like miniature cakes." Her hand rose tentatively to offer him one. "They're two layers of cake with butter-cream filling and dipped in chocolate. They're delicious! Have you ever had one?"

Draco's mouth lifted at one side in a small smile as he shook his head. Why was she so enchanting? Was it the intelligent sparkle in her eyes? The way the deep blue of her mask complemented her hair? The slim but shapely body encased in an equally beautiful blue gown? Whatever it was, it was a nice reprieve from the stress and ugliness this year had brought about.

"Open up," she said, a grin pushing her enticing, petal-like lips up at both ends.

Draco obeyed without conscious thought. Tiny fingers plopped the pastry into his mouth and he chewed, the sweet taste spreading over his taste-buds. It really was surprisingly good. He wasn't usually one for desserts, but tonight seemed to be a night for rarities.

The girl tilted her head to the side in question. As soon as he swallowed, he smiled broadly. "That was fantastic, truly."

She laughed triumphantly as she ate her own tiny cube, and Draco found he couldn't tear his eyes away from that perfect, little mouth of hers.

On a whim, he held out his hand. "Would you like to dance?"

Though it was impossible to see, Draco could tell she was blushing, and it only made him grin even wider. She hesitated for a moment, her head turning around as if she was searching for someone. Draco's smile faltered slightly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You're probably here with someone. Just forget-"

"No," she said quickly, her eyes widening behind her mask. Merlin, that was such a deep brown. "It's okay. I, um, I don't mind dancing." Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth and Draco's eyes fixated on that small action. It was almost familiar, but he couldn't remember for the life of him where he had seen it before. He was being ridiculous. How many people chewed on their lips? Nervously, she placed her hand in his and he led her out onto the dance floor amidst the grinding mass of bodies.

It had been quite some time since he had danced, but it came back easily. His parents had spent a lot of gold and a lot of time putting him through lessons as he grew up. 'A proper Pureblood heir must know how to dance at every function.' He had to stop from rolling his eyes as his mother's voice echoed around his mind. She certainly hadn't imagined _this_ type of dancing, he wagered.

The music was hypnotic, some kind of electronic melody accompanied with a deep bass that seemed to beat through his body and straight to his heart. The mystery girl stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking around at the contorting bodies practically humping each other. Draco held onto her hand, pulling her against him. "We don't have to dance like them," he nearly shouted in her ear, so she could hear him. He felt her nod and he smiled. His mother always said that a girl would fall in love for a guy that could dance, but if he danced too smoothly – she'd never trust him. Let's see if it was true, just for one night. On the next beat, he flung his arm out, spinning her down the length of it, before twirling her back against his chest.

Echoes of her laughter fell on his ears above the music and he laughed along with her. How carefree he felt tonight; the worries and threats he faced, momentarily forgotten. No one knew him, so they couldn't expect anything of him. He was, for a moment, not the Pureblood heir to the Malfoy riches, nor the newest Death Eater with an impossible task. He was a Sixth Year boy at a dance.

They began to move in earnest as they grew accustomed to the other's style and form of motion. She was graceful, but shy, self-conscious. Draco was a bold dancer, confident, and he swept her along with him, making it easy for her to follow his lead. Together they twirled, swayed, and even briefly tangoed, across the dance floor.

Just when he thought his face would surely crack from the broad grin he couldn't seem to control, the music slowed down, instantly shifting the mood from playful to serious. Several people moved away from the sudden intimacy on the dance floor; all those remaining were couples, pressed closely together and swaying side to side. Draco hesitated. Surely her date would be looking for her, and he knew Pansy would be livid that he hadn't found her yet, but he didn't care - not really.

Not giving her time to shy away again, he pulled her to his chest, wrapped one hand around the small of her back, and laced the fingers of his other with hers. He felt a slight resistance for a second, but then the small pressure of her hand was on his shoulder.

He smiled again as he began to move them in a gentle back and forth step, slowly making their way around the dance floor in an intimate circle.

"I feel I should ask your name," she said after a moment, her voice barely a whisper in his ear.

"That would ruin the mystery of tonight," he replied smoothly. "Wouldn't you rather keep this exciting for as long as possible?"

Her head pulled back and he looked down to meet her eyes, mocha slits in the azure mask. "What?" he asked innocently. "Do you disagree?"

She stared at him a moment before sighing. "Not really. I'm just curious. I don't like to not know things."

He chuckled. "Normally, I don't either, but I could really use some blissful ignorance tonight."

She was quiet for a moment, the music flowing around them in waves.

"Will you at least tell me what school you go to?"

"Are you always this nosy?"

He felt her make a feminine noise of feigned offense against his dress shirt, her cheek pressed delicately to his chest. "Yes, but I usually would have already solved this mystery by now."

His laugh was a bit louder this time. "You sound like a stubborn know-it-all."

She sniffed in mock indignation. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure."

"Oh, and you with all your confidence? You must be everyone's best friend."

His humor faded slightly. "I wouldn't say that."

"Touchy subject?"

"Yes."

She looked up at him again, and he chose to ignore it as he spun them around the room under the magical, flashing lights. The song changed; it was a bit faster, but still a romantic tune. The mood had dropped considerably between them. It was suddenly more tense. Well, he couldn't have that. If he was going to woo this girl – and he would – he would have to liven it up. It was a personal challenge, something to make this night even more interesting and memorable. He could be someone else. Live as another person for one night before returning to the nightmarish hell that was his own life...

He fixed a smile on his face and as the chorus began again, something about a love stronger than Goblin's metal, he dipped her down low, her back bending gracefully in his arms. Brown eyes met his, the look unreadable as his body followed hers like a magnet. Scant inches remained between their faces as their legs stretched to the side in unison to counter balance the shift of weight. When he pulled them back up, the skin of her neck and the upper portion of her chest were flushed with a sweet shade of crimson. All his breath left in a rush. He started to lean in, her lips parted just slightly, so inviting - but she stepped back. Wide-eyed and obviously shaken, she muttered a quick, "I'm sorry," and then she took off across the floor. He stood frozen in the spot for a moment, watching her slim blue dress dodging between the other dancing couples.

"What's wrong? Lost your date?" He turned and saw Blaise, his shit-eating grin obvious beneath the emerald-green mask, looking far too entertained at Draco's sudden lack of a dance partner.

"Piss off, Zabini."

"I pegged you for an awful dancer, Malfoy, but as fast as she ran off - you must be dreadful!"

Oh, if only looks could kill. He would've at least aimed a decent kick at his old friend's shins if he wasn't dancing with a girl himself.

"Blow me."

A mass of brown curls bobbed away to his left, almost out of sight now, and Draco gave chase, leaving the chortling form of his friend behind and weaving in and out of party-goers as smooth as silk sliding over glass.

"Wait!" he called after her as her hurried feet took her down the front steps of the castle. "Where are you going?"

She stopped and turned. "I don't know!"

That gave him pause. Maybe she wasn't from here, after all. That would make things easier, in the long run, wouldn't it? And yet there was a small stab of disappointment.

"Listen, I was too bold. You don't know me and I don't know you. I shouldn't -"

And then her mouth was on his.

It was a bit awkward at first. In her haste, their teeth clacked together, but when he returned pressure on her lips she opened her mouth willingly to him. His tongue traced the back of her teeth, tasting her. Her tongue danced with his as smoothly as their bodies had cavorted together on the floor - it was divine.

She pulled back first, her breath coming in small pants, her lips parted again - just barely. He was bewildered. Should he take her back to his dorm room? What if she was a student here in a different house? Should he just take her back inside and dance some more? When he didn't say anything, her eyelids drifted down, covering her oaken orbs.

"Oh, how forward of me." Her hand rose to her lips, slightly shaky, embarrassed.

"I thought it was brilliant, actually."

A nervous giggle bubbled from her throat and the tension was broken. "I'm not usually like this." It seemed as if she was admonishing herself. "Should we go back inside?" Her voice was _so_ familiar, but surely he would have remembered the woman that belonged with this breathy, hypnotizing tone.

"Only if you want to."

She looked once towards the door. "My friends might be wondering where I am."

He nodded and turned to go back to the stairs.

"Wait." Her hand rested gently on her arm. "Maybe just a moment? It's not too cold out here and the moon..." she trailed off and Draco looked up. It was indeed large in the sky - not quite full, but almost, far outshining any of the stars that dotted the blanket of sky.

"Would you like to walk?"

A silent nod answered his question and he tucked her arm in his and took off across the grounds towards the lake. There were no lights outside of Hogwarts, but that moon was plenty enough to guide the way.

"Are we allowed to be out here right now?" she asked, sounding legitimately concerned.

"It's fine, I'm sure. There wasn't anyone standing outside to tell us no."

"Do you always assume you can do something just because no one is there to stop you from doing it?" Oh, so she was bossy, too?

The classic Malfoy smirk donned his features. "Something like that."

Her curls bounced as she shook her head, her lips lifting in a grin that was more sinful than she realized, probably. "Call me an excellent judge of character, but I think you are trouble."

This time, he threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Oh, if you only knew..."

But there it was: that knowledge that they didn't know, and probably never would. It added levels of excitement to the night, definitely, but there was also almost a sadness. They were hitting it off so well and yet they probably would never see each other again. They drew nearer to the lake and Draco contemplated that maybe that meant they should take full advantage of the situation. His eyes slid to the side and he saw that she, again, was gnawing on her bottom lip. Perhaps she was reflecting on their strange predicament, as well.

He was delighted to see the giant squid waving a few tentacles above the black glass of the water. Many students feared the big beast, but Draco knew better. Countless times he had gone swimming in the lake and the only thing that he feared were the merpeople - they were certainly not creatures to mess with. He came to a stop on the shore, several feet away from the water. The moon was mirrored in all of its lunar glory on the surface - a rippled, distorted version of itself.

"It's beautiful."

He smiled. Life may be a crock of shit sometimes, but Hogwarts...Hogwarts was always magical.

"Yes. It is."

The pale glow of the moon lit up her mask, making the blue seem to shimmer; it showed off lighter shades of brown in her hair, bringing to view how variegated the strands truly were; it made her eyes sparkle like gemstones; and her teeth appeared to glow like pearls. Her face turned towards him and she blinked several times as she found him staring at her so intently.

"I'm going to kiss you again now."

He didn't want for any kind of response - he just leaned over and wrapped his arms around her middle, pressing his lips down to hers. She gasped against his mouth and he captured her bottom lip between his teeth.

For a moment, he thought she might push him away, but even the meekest become bold behind a mask. Her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders and she gripped him tightly as the kiss deepened. Daring fate, he let his own hands slip farther down her back until they rested against the tantalizing swell of her backside. A small sigh passed from her mouth to his, and it was as if he was literally drinking her in. Their lips parted to allow fresh breaths, and then he pulled her tighter against his body, her breasts pressed against his chest. The moon, the night, the water, the masks, her lips, her tongue, her teeth on his lip, her hands on his back, her nails digging in to his suit – all these things combined in his body until he felt drunk on sensation.

When she pulled back again, he slowly opened his eyes to gaze down into hers. They were heated, her pupils dilated, her lashes slightly lowered. Her breath came in soft pants as she brought herself back under control.

"I'm sor-"

He brought a finger to her lips, feeling the swollen flesh from his ministrations. "Please, stop apologizing."

Delicate fingers wrapped around his wrist and she tugged lightly, urging his hand down and away. "I just – I feel like a floozy."

He blinked. "Did you just say floozy?"

The faint shadow of her eyebrows drew down, disappearing beneath her mask. "Well, yes. It's a slang term to describe an immoral woman. Usually one who-"

"I know what it means."

"Then why –"

"I don't understand why you would think yourself one."

She lowered her hands down in front of her and clasped them together. "Because I don't ever _do_ this."

He pressed his lips tightly to stop from smirking. "You don't kiss boys?"

Her head lowered with her hands and he almost felt a pang of regret. She was obviously shyer than any girl he had ever been with. He hadn't really meant to tease her. "I only meant – "

"No, it's okay. I _have_ been giving you mixed signals since the pastries." At length, she looked up at him through her long, black lashes that fanned out from her eyes and stood out brilliantly within the holes of her mask. "I only mean that I've never, um, kissed a boy I've only just met. I've only kissed a couple boys, to be honest, and they were friends I had known for years. I don't know the proper etiquette or protocol for this kind of encounter."

Her words all came out in a rush and Draco had to hold his tongue in check. _Etiquette? Protocol? _They were snogging, not having a business meeting.

"You're over-thinking this."

A breathy laugh pushed past her lips. "I tend to do that."

"So, don't. Live."

She blinked once. Twice. Her mouth open and closed a few times before she said, "But I don't even _know_ you."

He took a step closer to her, sensing that her walls were crashing down one by one. This mystery girl may be a logical, rational thinker, but even the most commonsensical person was susceptible to an emotional overtaking on a night like this.

"No, you don't – but does that really matter right now?"

"Well –"

"Really think about that. It's a beautiful night. We're out here alone. No one knows who we are. For one night, we can be anyone."

Her lips parted as he took another step, closing the final bit of space between them.

"But I –"

He covered her mouth with his, silencing whatever her last, feeble protest might have been – and he met no resistance. Petal-soft lips were pliable against his, matching his movements, giving as much as they took. A soft breeze blew by, lifting his hair and hers, billowing around them like an invisible brook. When he pulled his lips away from hers and looked down at her, she nodded.

"Okay."

_Okay_. His heart thudded heavily in his ribcage as he grasped her hand and led her along the outskirts of the lake, farther away from the castle and into the dark shadows cast by the trees of the Forbidden Forest. The place still made his skin crawl, but they would never be spotted here.

"Are we going into the Forest?" she asked, her voice breathless.

"Not, really. Just to a place a bit more hidden." He glanced behind him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It wouldn't be so great to be caught by Professor Snape – or worse, McGonagall." He watched her for signs of recognition of the names, but she only averted her gaze and looked towards the castle, seeming to be checking to make sure no one was watching.

He only went in past the first line of trees. The grass was still soft and springy underfoot, there were no creatures, and they were completely veiled by the foliage. Her brown eyes were wide in her face, shining in the soft glow of the moon that barely filtered down through the branches. She looked like she was frozen, so Draco took the initiative.

Slowly, so she would know what he was doing, he pressed his body against hers, gently urging her backwards until her shoulders brushed up against the trunk of a tree. His mouth found hers and she offered herself to him willingly. He trailed his hands down her shoulders to where the satiny material of her gown swelled up with her breasts, lightly grazing his palms over them. She shivered under his touch and her hands reached out for his shoulders, grasping them tightly. He slipped his hand inside the top of her dress, his fingers searching until he found her nipple – already hardened with arousal. That knowledge elicited a groan from his throat, the sound swallowed up by their mouths.

His hands continued their delightful journey down her body and she began to explore him, as well, her fingers spread across his chest, the slight sting of nails through his silk shirt. When he reached her hips, she paused and looked up at him. Brown eyes flicked rapidly from one grey iris to the other. What she was searching for, he didn't know, but she must have found it – she nodded once, firmly, almost more to herself than him and then her hands were gripping his tie and she was pulling his mouth back down to hers.

Spurred on by her actions, he hastily began to pull up the material of her gown, bunching it up in his hands as he went until it was all gathered at the tops of her thighs. Her skin was hot to the touch, fevered with desire. His tongue tangled with hers, his teeth nipping at her lips, as he slowly grazed one hand across her sex. Her panties were the same satin as her dress, and he could easily feel the extent of her arousal through them.

Her mouth tore free from his as he lightly tapped his fingers against her, gasping aloud into the night air, and when he gently eased his hand beneath that insubstantial barrier and cupped it directly against her, she brought her mouth down to his throat and elicited a succulent moan against his skin.

Merlin, she was ready.

He tugged a bit hastily until she was devoid of her undergarment. When he gently slid a finger inside, her head dropped back against the tree trunk – her chest rising higher as her breaths came more rapidly. Small fingers grasped at his belt, fumbling with the buckle.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she breathed.

She pulled her wand out from a small side pocket of her dress he hadn't even noticed and tapped the belt. Draco jumped as the buckle came undone and the belt slid itself through the loops. When he looked back up at her face, her cheeks were flushed and he couldn't tell if it was embarrassment or just the situation itself, and he didn't care.

The moment her fingers wrapped around his length, he forgot everything else. That this was a stranger didn't matter. That they were about to fuck in the woods didn't matter. In fact, it all just seemed rather fitting.

A breath hissed out between his teeth when she tightened her hand into a fist around him and squeezed slightly. Merlin's fucking uncle, that felt incredible. She had pulled that lip between her teeth again as she started to stroke him and he couldn't help the growl that rumbled in his chest or the almost violent way he surged forward to take her lip between his own teeth.

He drank in her soft mewls, suddenly desperate for all of her. He wanted, needed, to shag this mysterious girl, to watch her name-less, masked face as she fell apart because of him.

He could tell from her touch that she was inexperienced, but not virginal. She was tentative, meek, and it was driving him mad. He removed his hand from inside her and held it on top of her hand, putting more pressure and showing her how to stroke him as he ravaged her mouth and kissed his way along her jaw to her neck. Her skin was sweet, like those damn chocolates they had shared earlier.

Fuck. He couldn't wait any longer. He shifted her body, pushing her up the tree and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. With one hand gripping her hip tightly and the other guiding his cock, he positioned himself at her entrance. Her entire body tensed and he lifted his head from her neck to look at her. Wide eyes stared at him, unblinking, from behind the mask, and he held her gaze as he slowly lowered her down onto his erection, filling her, stretching her.

Merciful fuck, she was tight.

Not a virgin, no, but she was definitely close to it. He clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as he pushed into her fully.

"Fuck…" he breathed out as her body shivered delicately against his. He felt her breath hitch in his ear as he pressed his forehead against her shoulder, easing himself out and then back in – slowly, letting her get used to the feeling. Hell, letting _himself _get used to the feeling.

When she began to wiggle her hips against him, soft whimpers of need falling from her lips, he increased his pace. She surrounded him like a silken glove. He let his head fall back as a wordless sound of pleasure seeped from his mouth. Then her hands were in his hair, tugging on the strands, sending tingles across his scalp and down his spine. He pumped into her over and over, desire ratcheting up in his body and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. Whether she was really so delectable, or whether it was all due to the dream-like quality of this night, he didn't know, but being inside her felt almost _too_ good.

Whimpers turned into moans as he pressed her body harder against the tree, entering her at a deeper angle. Her muscles quivered around him and he nearly lost it. _Come on…I can't go much longer without…_

And then she came.

She came gloriously around him, a sound of pure pleasure crying out from her chest, her legs clenched tight around his midsection, her innermost muscles squeezing and rippling all around him. He let himself go, pounding into her once…twice…three more times before finding his own release, violently exploding into and around her.

He kept her there for a moment, braced against the tree, still buried deep inside her. The last aftershock wracked her body as he pulled out and set her gently on her feet, her dress falling back down to her ankles. Labored breaths puffed into the air around them.

His eyes closed while he tucked himself back into his trousers. That had been…incredible. Too brief, but incredible.

The soft clearing of her throat brought his eyes open again. She smiled sheepishly up at him, her cheeks flushed with evidence of her personal pleasure – the color making her even more beautiful somehow.

"Do you mind if I, um," she gestured at his clothes.

"We just had a very intense shag, and you're still blushing around me?"

The red in her cheeks deepened further. "I just wanted to fix your clothes for you."

He looked down at himself and saw that he did look a bit of a mess. His lips turned up into a smirk as he held his arms out. With a flick of her wand, he looked like he had just stepped out of the dorm.

"You're pretty good with that," he observed.

"That's what they all tell me," she replied, a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

As she proceeded to do the same to herself, which was good considering her hair had twigs in its tangles, Draco bent down and picked her panties off the ground, slipping them into his pocket. Her eyes narrowed at the movement.

"Did you just – "

He held his hands up innocently. "I can't have a little souvenir from this oh-so-magical night?"

Her teeth worried at her lower lip, but she eventually nodded.

"Fine, but now you seem like a perv."

"Oh, I didn't seem like one when I brought you out here to fuck?"

Her eyes rolled behind her mask. "You certainly have a mouth on you, don't you?"

"That's what they all tell me."

She shook her head and chuckled lightly as he gave her line back to her. Together, they walked out of the secrets hidden in the shadow of the trees and began the moonlit stroll across the grounds, back to the lights of the castle and the music drifting across the grass.

"Fair enough, but if you get to keep a souvenir, I think I should, too."

"Would you like me to take off my –"

"No, I don't want your underwear!"

He laughed as her voice shot up nearly an octave with mortification. His hand dipped into his coat pocket and he pulled out his handkerchief. It was the same deep red of his tie and a large, capital _M _was embroidered in gold in the middle. She stared at it for a moment, her finger tracing the letter once before she tucked it into the top of her dress.

"An initial?"

"Yes."

She looked at him expectantly.

"M for Mysterious Man."

Her mouth fell open in disbelief before she tilted her head back and laughed. The lilting sound echoed across the grounds, like she was single-handedly spreading joy around the entire school. On a night like tonight, he could almost believe it.

"Well, _Mysterious Man_, do I get one more dance before the night is through?" He looked at her in amusement; her eyes were cut shyly to the side as she regarded him.

"I don't see why not. After all, we did just –"

"There you are!"

He was cut off as they rounded the corner. Two wizards came bounding down the stairs towards them.

"Ron?"

_Ron? Surely not…_

But it had to be. A shock of red hair, unmistakably a Weasley's hair, smoothed out from behind the mask of the one on the left. The other had black hair that stuck up at an eerily familiar angle. Potter.

"Harry? What are you two doing out here?"

"We've been looking all over for you, Hermione."

_Hermione._

The three of them kept talking, their voices sounding angrier and angrier, but Draco didn't hear a word of it. There was no way that girl was Hermione Granger, the mudblood. No. No, it was impossible. It had to be another Hermione. But he knew…the sinking feeling in his gut, the frantic pounding of his heart, the wave of dizziness that overtook him – all these things told him that it was true.

He had spent the entire night with Hermione Fucking Granger.

He had just…

Fucking hell.

_He had just fucked Hermione Granger in the Forbidden Forest._

His hearing finally returned just in time to realize that Ron was now pointing at him.

"You just went off with this guy that you don't even know? For Merlin's sake, Hermione! He could have been a Death –"

"Ron!"

The Weasley cad brought his voice down to a whisper, still managing to sound positively venomous, his tone colored green with jealousy. "He could have been a Death Eater! Just about everyone knows that you're a muggle born, Hermione! Don't you think they would just love to get their hands on you? Especially since you're one of Harry Potter's best friends?"

Hermione was obviously enraged now, as well.

"Do you think I can't handle myself, Ron?!"

Draco took a step back. He needed to run. He needed to get out of here before she knew. She couldn't ever know it had been him. Oh, god. He was going to be sick.

"Besides, I'm obviously fine, so can you just –"

She turned to look at him as he took another step back.

"What's wrong? Where are you-"

He shook his head. He couldn't even speak. How could he not have realized it? Six years he had spent hating this girl for her blood status, believing she was beneath him, and tonight he had _fucked _her? She had been so smart, so funny, so beautiful…

He turned and set off at a jog towards the school. He had to just disappear into the crowd – get away from her and disappear.

"Wait!" He could hear the clack of her shoes on the stones behind him.

With a snarl of misplaced rage and confusion, he turned on his heel and ripped his mask off.

She stopped dead in her tracks. It was almost comical, like someone had pulled her emergency breaks. Her mouth dropped open and she froze.

"M…Malfoy…"

He stared at her. The wind picked up again, pushing their hair back and forth as they stood there.

"But…I…did you…"

"No, I didn't know it was you. Do you think I would have…" His voice died out as he gestured to the Forest. Hermione's face drained of all color and a shaky hand rose to her mouth.

"Oh my…"

"Yeah. So, if you don't mind. I'm going to go and take a shower…or five."

He turned and walked swiftly into the castle, bypassing the Great Hall completely and going straight for the dark staircase that would take him to the dungeons.

The wadded up bundle in his pocket felt like a fire-hot brand against his thigh.

**November 7, 1996**

She wouldn't look at him.

She wouldn't look at him.

She wouldn't look at him.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Luna?"

"That pretty blond-haired Slytherin boy is staring at you."

"What?! Draco Malfoy is staring at you?!"

"Ginny! Don't turn and look at him!"

Hermione wanted to bury her head under her books and hide from the entire world.

"Merlin's beard, she's right!"

_Oh, no._

It had been a week since that crazy night and, so far, Hermione had managed to avoid Malfoy in the corridors. They couldn't help the two classes they shared, but she had studiously ignored him then, too, and she _thought _it had been mutual avoidance.

She groaned and pressed her fingertips to her temples. Not a word of that night had been spoken of – not to anyone. As far as her friends knew, Hermione had run off to have a snog with a random French student. It was a bit out of character, but no one could argue that the night hadn't been full of wild energy. Thankfully, Harry and Ron hadn't seen Draco take his mask off. Their confrontation, what had seemed to her like hours, was only a few seconds. By the time her two friends had caught up with her, Draco had been long gone.

"Why is he staring Hermione?"

Her eyes drifted closed and she didn't answer. Because she didn't know. The last week had been a strange sort of hell. Had she expected him to say something else to her about it? Not really. He must hate himself. After all, he thought of her as a…she couldn't even think the word. She had hated herself, too, at first. Malfoy had always been the enemy – the evil person that represented all that was wrong with the world. But that evening…that evening he had been so _charming_.

The past six nights she had lied awake in bed, images passing over her eyes. Feeding him the pastry, the way he dipped her as they danced across the floor, their first passionate kiss, the romantic walk in the moonlight, and of course…the Forest. Her cheeks heated just thinking about it now.

"He looks…odd. Doesn't he look odd, Luna?"

"No. Not really."

Hermione giggled.

It was a strange sound to come from her – Hermione didn't giggle. Ever.

"Alright, what is going on? Either you tell me or I'll have to go ask _him_."

At that, the smile wiped right off her face. She brought her hands down and looked sternly at Ron's younger sister. "Don't."

"Well, then, spill. Something obviously happened, because he doesn't look repulsed. In fact, he looks…"

"Confused," Luna finished. "Like he doesn't know who you are."

Hermione's eyebrows drew down in thought and she pulled her lip between her teeth, her nervous habit subconsciously coming to play. Why would he be confused? He knew _exactly_ who she was – every inch of her. A shiver tickled down her spine. Hermione Granger having hot, passionate sex in the Forest, who would have thought?

"He doesn't look mad?"

Ginny looked curiously at her while Luna shook her head. "Nope. Not at all. Just a bit lost. Of course, we all get lost eventually. Sometimes, the wrackspurts start buzzing around and they just take your thoughts and –"

"We know, Luna," Ginny said, holding a hand up. "You're blushing," she accused.

Hermione just shook her head. "Please, Gin, just leave it."

"But-"

Luna interrupted her overly-concerned, red-headed friend, but Hermione didn't hear what she said. Her eyes had moved of their own accord, and her gaze was locked with the steely-grey, penetrating stare of Draco Malfoy.

Her whole body seemed to vibrate with the desire to get up and go to him. Those eyes…how many times had she seen them in her dreams, surrounded with the simple black and white mask? Her lips fell apart with a soft popping sound as all the breath left her body in a rush. He was resting his elbow on the table, one finger pressed lightly against his lower lip. He met her gaze unflinchingly. His brow was furrowed just the slightest bit, and she noticed his skin was a bit paler than usual.

Why did she even notice that? If she didn't stop looking at him, her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. She finally tore her gaze back down to the table, her plate now empty as the evening meal was done and the time had arrived for all students to return to their Houses. Perhaps she could just drown herself in her pumpkin juice…

A great cacophony of noise assaulted her ears as, almost in one fluid movement, the entire student body screeched their benches back and began to file out of the Great Hall. Okay. This was good. She could slip away in the crowd, run to Gryffindor tower, and hide in her dormitory until the end of time. With a glance around her, she saw that Luna and Ginny were already going through the doorway and dread pooled in her stomach as she couldn't quite ignore the feeling that Luna had whisked the two of them away on purpose. That Ravenclaw girl was extremely clever in the oddest ways and it made Hermione uneasy at times. Times like now, namely.

Regardless, she squared her shoulders and joined the throng of students out the Great Hall. No Malfoy in sight. Perfect.

She rounded the corner to go down the corridor that lead to the main stairs when she was suddenly jerked to the side and into an empty classroom.

"What the-"

She froze as she realized who had pulled her into the room. The look on Malfoy's face was almost frightening. He looked like he hadn't slept in, well, a week. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were wide as he looked at her, like he didn't quite know what to do now that he had gotten her in here. Her own eyes drifted down to his lips, like they were drawn there by some cosmic force. Why did they have to be so perfectly shaped?

"Granger."

Her eyes flicked back up to his.

"Malfoy."

His hands jerked away from her shoulders like he hadn't known he was still touching her. His tongue came out to wet his lips briefly before he asked, "Do your friends know?"

A soft, sad sigh left Hermione's lips. She should have known that's what he would be worried about - keeping it all a secret.

"No, Malfoy. I didn't tell anyone anything."

"Oh. Right. Good."

_Good? _Could he be more of an ass? Was this really the same man that had wooed her so completely with his talk of magic and mystery?

"It'd be a lot easier, though, if you didn't stare at me during meals."

That seemed to catch him slightly off guard. His lips pressed tightly together.

"Is that all you wanted?" she said. It was killing her to stand here. Her foolish heart had hoped that, maybe, he had felt something more than just a good shag that night. That maybe he would change. Brightest witch of her age – but a fool all the same.

"Yes."

She turned to leave.

"No."

She stopped. "Which is it Malfoy? Yes or no?" When she looked back at him, he appeared taller, like he had become more of his old self again. Good. That would make it easier for her to start hating him again…right?

"What does it matter to you?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Because I stupidly hoped you wouldn't be such a prat after-"

"After what? After we fucked?"

She felt her cheeks redden. Dammit, she hated blushing so easily. "Frankly, yes."

A bitter laugh crashed against her ears. "That's all it was Granger – a fuck – and had I known it was you, it wouldn't have even been that. As it was, I had to take five showers to get the slimy, mudblood feeling off of me."

Each word was like a slap to the face. Why had she let her guard down so easily? Years of hatred and she had really thought one moment would make a difference? The beginnings of tears began to gather against her lower eyelids, but she would not let him see her cry. That is one thing she would never do.

There were no words. She was too angry to argue. No insults came readily to mind. She did the next best thing.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

It was immensely satisfying to see Draco's face frozen in shock as he fell to the floor.

She barely made it out of the room before the tears started falling. She ran to the nearest bathroom and dove inside, sobs breaking from her chest. It shouldn't hurt this bad. She shouldn't have let it come to this.

"Miss Granger?"

She jumped when Professor McGonagall pushed the door open, her face so full of concern that another wave of tears threatened to spill out of her.

"Are you injured? Has something happened?"

Hermione shook her head, pressing her sleeve up to her mouth and nose as she struggled to bring herself under control.

"No. I just – I, um-" She sniffed. "Draco Malfoy is in the empty classroom three doors down to the left, Professor. I performed the body-bind curse on him..."

Professor McGonagall's spine straightened up. "Miss Granger! You know you are not to use spells against other students!"

She nodded sullenly. She certainly wasn't going to tell McGonagall why she had done it. The old teacher swept her gaze over Hermione, assessing her condition, and she knew that McGonagall would easily put two and two together. It wasn't exactly secret knowledge that Malfoy hated her.

"Very well," she said, finally, her voice full of sympathy and understanding. "Go to your dormitory at once. You will have to have detention for this, Miss Granger, I'm afraid. Come see me tomorrow after Potions."

"Yes, Professor."

When she finally arrived to her room, she collapsed directly onto the bed and pulled her curtains closed. She didn't want to be talked to or even looked at. She pulled the small handkerchief out from under her pillow, held it to her chest, and cried until her eyelids were so heavy she fell asleep.

**June 16, 1997**

"Get out of here, quickly."

Draco stumbled as Snape shoved him forward. The sight of Albus Dumbledore's lifeless body falling over the side of the tower would forever be imprinted in his brain, he was sure of it.

"Go!"

He was pushed forward again, and this time his feet seemed to obey his mind's command to get the fuck out of here. Everything had happened so fast. Everything… His Aunt Bellatrix's laughter rang out lewdly, echoing off the corridors like a mockery of happiness. It was obscene.

There were more members of the Order at the foot of the stairs. They had just gotten past the barricade, it seemed. Draco's eyes widened. He couldn't do this. He couldn't kill these people. He dodged a spell and shot a hex over the shoulder of one of the Death Eaters in front of him, the hood covering the back of the head making it difficult to see who it was. A stinging burn slashed his upper arm and he cried out in pain. It hadn't been a lethal curse. Someone…his eyes widened even further as wild brown hair whipped around the corner.

_No…_

No, she couldn't be here.

The school was going to fall. Now that Dumbledore was…gone…it was only a matter of time before the Death Eaters took full control. A wave of nausea washed through him as the full realization of what he had done hit him. He staggered to the side, grasping at the stone wall for support. He had to get out of here.

"This way!"

Greyback yelled out triumphantly from somewhere in front of him and the group kept going down the stairs. The corridors were in chaos. Rubble had fallen off in several places and lay piled haphazardly on the carpet. Spells were shooting everywhere he looked. There were some bodies, but when he saw that none were bushy-haired, he kept going. Where had she gone?

A scream sent chills down his spine and he knew by the accompanying sound of ripping flesh that Greyback had taken a victim. He swallowed down more sickness as he tore through the corridor.

"Draco!"

He ignored the calls of his fellow Death Eaters as he broke from the group and ran the opposite direction, certain he had just seen a wild mane of hair down the corridor. He jumped over fallen stone, shoved students out of his way, held a hand up against the sudden heat of a portrait set ablaze, dodged to the side when a jet of light came flying straight at his chest, and ran like his life depended on it. He skidded to a stop as he came to a corridor, his eyes roving wildly back and forth. There! He was certain that had been her disappearing into the room.

He fled down the corridor to the door and wrenched it open, bursting inside the empty classroom. There she was, standing a few feet away from him. The door closed behind him, but he couldn't take his eyes off of her. There was a cut across her cheek, dust in her hair, her brown eyes huge in her face, her skin too pale. But she was alive. For now.

In two large strides he closed the distance between them, his hands grasping onto her shoulders roughly.

"You have to get out of here, Granger. Now."

"I know, but Malfoy –"

"You don't understand!" He wanted to scream; his panic was mounting higher and higher. "Hogwarts is falling RIGHT NOW. You're a muggle-born. They'll come for you first. You need to go!"

"I understand that, but first I have to do something."

His eyes flicked back and forth between hers in confusion. There was no time for this. Snape would be looking for him, his stupid oath to his mother compelling him to keep Draco safe. If he found her here…

"We don't have time."

"For this – we do."

She lifted her hand up from her side and for the first time he noticed that her wand was grasped tightly in it. His eyes widened even further. Was she going to attack him? His own wand was still in his fist, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything. Last time he had spoken to her, she had cursed him. When McGonagall first found him, he had been humiliated at being caught in such a vulnerable position, enraged that Hermione had done that to him.

But he had deserved it.

He hadn't spoken a word to her since then, but he had watched her these long months. Even though he had been busy and panicking, trying to complete his task to save his life and the lives of his family, he had watched her.

More than that, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. How she kissed, how she tasted, how she felt. Even her laugh was haunting him. He hadn't know what was going on with him until the night in the common room when Blaise had commented on his lack of attentiveness in class, how he had stopped using his position as Prefect to torture first years. How had he said it? _"Looks like he's in love." _Everyone had laughed uproariously at that. _"Draco Malfoy, in love? Not unless he's been looking at his own reflection again."_ He had laughed along with them, but those words had never left his ears.

Was it possible that he _loved_…

He stared at her, unable to move. His heart thudded in his chest, so loudly that he knew she must be able to hear it.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since that night," she said, her voice so soft he wasn't sure he had even heard it. "I kept thinking that maybe you'd say something, or maybe I would stop you in the corridor, but I was too afraid. Especially after I, well, you know."

She looked expectantly up at him, but he couldn't get his mouth to make any words. He swallowed and nodded once.

"All of my friends thought I had fallen in love with the masked boy from the masquerade." Her long lashes lowered, covering her eyes. "I think they were right."

It felt like the entire world was standing still. Draco's breath hitched in his throat as her lids slowly lifted and chestnut eyes

bored right into his.

"I love you, Draco."

His heart slammed harder against his chest.

"I know it doesn't make any sense. It was just one night. I can't explain it. I've tried to reason it away, but as Luna always says, 'There isn't always a place for reason in this world.'"

She nibbled on her bottom lip and he could feel his chest constricting around his heart.

"And I know you don't feel the same. I know you probably hate me, but I had to tell you. In case…well, in case anything – "

He grabbed her face with his hands and poured his being into his kiss. He didn't know if it was in his capabilities to say the words back, but surely she could feel it in his touch.

When he lifted his head to look into her face, her lips pulled up in a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm so-"

"Why do you always apologize?" he finally managed to say, though his voice was nearly breathless.

"Because I have to do this. I fear that if – if someone were to find out how I feel for you or how you feel for me-"

He opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she talked over him, "I know you do, Draco. I can tell – and if anyone in your family or your new circle finds out, I imagine they wouldn't be very happy with you considering…well, considering what I am."

His eyes closed as the truth of that statement washed over and through him. No, they would probably kill him, use him as a lesson for others.

"So, you understand," she said, her voice softer, sadder. "You know, then, why I have to do this."

His eyes flew open again and he shook his head slowly.

"No. Don't. You can't-"

"_Obliviate."_

The force of the spell ghosted through his mind. He tried to cling to the memories, to her words, but they fled from his thoughts.

He opened his eyes.

"Granger?" His lip curled up in disgust. "You might want to be leaving the school. Mudbloods like you are about to be a lot less welcome."

A single tear fell from her eye as he turned and quickly exited the room.

"There you are! Let's go, Draco!"

"Yes, Professor," he bit out as he followed the shadowy, sweeping form of Severus Snape down the front steps and across the lawn, not once looking back on the school he had helped destroy, or the broken body of Albus Dumbledore at the foot of the tallest tower.

**September 1, 2017**

There he was.

Hermione stood by the sorting hat and stool on the steps in the Great Hall while the newest batch of first years grouped up in front of her. Her eyes looked at them all kindly, noting the ones who were shaking, which ones looked like they were about to be sick, which looked enraptured by the place. She remembered well how she had felt all those years ago.

Her eyes froze again on the blond-haired boy to her left. He was already taller than several of his classmates and she felt her heart stutter in her chest as his eyes met hers.

_Merlin, he looks just like his father._

Remembering herself, she held up the long piece of parchment that held each student's name. One by one, she read them aloud as the tiny new pupils took a seat and the sorting hat shouted proudly which house they would be in for the next seven years at Hogwarts.

"Malfoy, Scorpius."

The thin boy ascended the stairs, his movements carrying the same proud, lithe grace of his father.

He paused before her and reached into the pocket of his robes, pulling out a small envelope.

"Are you Professor Granger?"

A perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in question. "Yes."

"This is for you then, Ma'am," he said and he placed the sealed envelope in her outstretched hand before settling himself on the stool.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

There was a cheer from the table to her left as the boy hopped down off the stool and made his way to an empty place.

A Malfoy in Gryffindor. A bemused smile graced Hermione's features as she tucked the missive in a pocket of her cloak. She had recognized the handwriting on the outside, and the Malfoy seal on the closure. But why had Draco Malfoy used his son to deliver something when he could have easily sent an owl?

She shook her head and continued with the sorting. Her stomach remained tied up in anxious knots throughout the entire feast.

She closed and latched her office door behind her and quickly shed her hat and robe as she hurried to her desk. Pushing aside "_Transfiguration in the 21__nd__ Century,"_ she took her seat and placed the envelope in front of her, waiting on the courage to build up to open it.

How many years had it been? Twenty?

She shook her head back and forth. Why had he sent something now? They hadn't spoken more than a few words in all that time. He had never known that they had shared that passionate moment in the Forest. He had completely forgotten that she loved him, that he loved her in return.

After the war, she had always intended to restore his memories. When Harry had finally defeated Voldemort, and when she knew that Malfoy wasn't going to Azkaban, she had prepared for it. But the day they had crossed paths in the Ministry, her there for lunch with Harry and Draco there for a final hearing about his mother, she had been unable to do it. He had looked at her with such aloofness. It was better than hating her, but he seemed so detached from the world. It had been hell watching him go through his father's life sentence in Azkaban, and then his death several years later. Wouldn't recovering memories that held such strong emotion be damaging to his psyche?

So, she had continued waiting – too long. When she heard that he was engaged to Astoria Greengrass, when it was clear that he had found some happiness in the world, she was loathe to take that away from him – even if it meant sacrificing her own.

It had been overly-sentimental for her to hold on to her feelings for him after all these years, especially since they hadn't even talked, but there it was.

And seeing his son – the boy he had created with another woman – it was like a knife in her heart. For so long she had been plagued with dreams of raising a house hold of blond-headed children with bright brown eyes, watching them go through school with pride.

But here she was: childless, loveless, alone.

She took a deep breath. That wasn't entirely true. She loved all of her students. Hogwarts had never known such peace and her career was very satisfying. Her life was far from miserable. And yet…

With trembling fingers she reached for the envelope, carefully slicing the end open with a simple spell. A single piece of parchment came out and fluttered slowly down to the desk, a flash of green ink visible as it fell. She held her breath as she reached out and flipped it over to read it.

"_I remember everything._

_-D.M."_

Her mouth fell open with a gasp.

Three words. A huge impact.

How? How was it even possible for him to remember?

**One Week Earlier**

"Draco, darling?"

He frowned at the wary tone of his wife's voice. "Yes, dear?"

"Could you come in here, please?"

He sighed softly, but pushed back away from his desk, laying his quill down. He really had to finish going over the financial requests from the Ministry, but Astoria was not to be denied.

His feet froze at the entrance to their bedroom in the Manor when he saw what she was holding up. "Tori, why are you standing there staring at your panties?"

When she turned her face up to meet his, he thought her glare might burn straight through him. "These aren't mine, Draco."

"Then whose are they?"

"That's what I'd like to know."

His brows drew down in confusion before it hit him.

"Are you serious? You think I fucked someone else?"

She winced at his tone and words. "I've asked you to please not swear in the house. Scorpius is going to pick it up from you one of these days."

"Right now, I don't give a flying fuck. Why do you think I'd ever do that to you? Have I not adequately explained that I will not raise our son in a broken home like mine?"

"Then what the hell is this, Draco?!"

"What makes you think I would even know?!"

She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and pointed imperiously to his closet. "I found them in your old things."

"My old-? Why were you even going through that stuff?"

Her eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "I've told you three times now, Draco, we're donating our old clothes and things to that shelter in Hackney."

"Oh, yeah."

He walked up to her and held his hand out. She pursed her lips, looking so much like his mother he almost couldn't stand it, but she placed the offending undergarment in his hand. He held it out. They looked old, faded, but he could tell that the material was once a very beautiful dark blue and it was still soft to the touch. Odd. He had absolutely no idea where they had come from.

"You say they were in my stuff? You're sure they weren't in yours?"

"I think I know your pants from my dresses, Draco."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Alright, now. No need to be so snarky."

"Snarky is my middle name." She huffed a sigh. "They were over there in the pocket of some old slacks."

His eyes followed the direction of her finger and he walked over, kneeling down by the pile of clothing she indicated. There was, indeed, a pair of slacks on top. He stood with them in his hands, holding them out to look at them. Merlin's beard, they were old.

"These are from when I was still in school," he commented.

She made a dismissive noise. "So, then, those probably belong to some floozy you were with at Hogwarts."

His body froze at that word.

_Floozy._

"Yeah," he muttered, "you're probably right."

"Well, just throw them away, then. And hurry, would you? We've got to take Scorpius to Diagon Alley for a few more things, still."

He murmured an affirmative sound, still staring at the clothing. It was like there was something right at the edge of his memory. He looked back down at the panties. They felt…familiar. Thinking of them as belonging to some random girl didn't feel right. They weren't some floozy's.

"_I just – I feel like a floozy."_

His head snapped up and his eyes opened wide.

Bloody fucking hell.

_Granger_.

He staggered backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sat down hard. Sharp bursts of pain speared through his head as memories came flooding back.

_Dancing._

_Masks._

_Moonlight._

_The Forest._

His eyes closed and he could swear he tasted her on his tongue.

_Death._

_Spells._

_Carnage._

_Screams._

He opened his eyes again, his fist tightly grasping the balled-up panties as he remembered what had happened after Dumbledore's death. All these years, he thought he had just blacked out the memories of emotional turmoil, but now he knew…

"_I love you, Draco."_

"_So, you understand. You know, then, why I have to do this."_

His heart beat painfully in his chest.

He had loved her.

His face turned slowly to the door as Astoria walked back in.

"Draco? Are you coming with us or what?"

For a moment, he couldn't answer her. What could his life have been like, all these years, if she hadn't taken herself away from him?

"Yes, Tori. I'll be right there."

As soon as she left down the hallway, he raced to his office. He couldn't change the past twenty years. Those were gone and done. And he couldn't leave Astoria. He loved her. She had come into his life when he had thought nothing good would ever happen again – she had saved him. They had Scorpius. His boy. He was about to start his first year at Hogwarts and Draco couldn't be more proud of him. He had done everything he could to raise him in a different way than Draco himself had been raised – and with Astoria's motherly affection and stability, they had done a pretty damn good job.

He exhaled a sad sigh as he reached for a clean piece of parchment and his quill. What was he going to say? That he was sorry? He wasn't – he hadn't done anything to be sorry for and his life was better than he could have ever anticipated. What he wanted was to demand to know why she had never given his memories back. He could understand why she had taken them – to an extent – but why not give them back as soon as the war was over? Why not let them see where they could have gone?

He dipped the quill point down in the ink and scrawled three simple words on the parchment.

**September 14, 2017**

_Knock, knock, knock._

"Just a minute."

His heart thudded irregularly at the sound of her voice. There was a soft scuffle, like a chair pushed from a desk, and then the big wooden door was pulled open and Draco found himself staring into the big brown eyes of Hermione Granger.

"D-Draco…"

He tried his best to ignore the soft flutter of his heart at the sound of his name in her voice. It had been years since he had given her a second thought. In fact, the last time he had even acknowledged her was at the Ministry so long ago when his mother was still…

"Hello, Hermione."

Her brown eyes – beautiful, brilliance shining within – widened and her mouth dropped open briefly before she seemed to recover herself.

"Um, well, would you like to come in to my office? Is there something I can help you with?" She stood back and gestured him through the door.

"Actually, there is," he replied, as he took the indicated seat opposite her desk chair.

"Well, it's only been a couple weeks, but Scorpius is already proving himself to be an exceptional student. His skills are improving faster than some of my second years and just two days ago he –"

"Hermione," Draco held a hand up, "I'm not here to talk about my son."

Her mouth popped shut and she swallowed.

"Oh, then why-"

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on her desk, interlacing his fingers and resting his chin on top of them. His stare alone was enough to cut off her words.

"I think you know why I'm here."

She didn't say anything, but her eyes got even wider. "I'm so-"

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing?"

"But I am. It wasn't right for me to take your memories. I only just –"

"Hermione!" He slammed his hands down on her desk and she jumped about three feet off her chair. "I don't want to hear any excuses like that." He stood and leaned forward, his heart racing in his chest. "Why didn't you give them back?"

Her head shook back and forth quickly, her mouth working up and down without making a sound.

"I understand that you took them to save me – to save you – but why, once it was all said and done, didn't you return them?" His eyes were intense and so were his thoughts. After all, this witch in front of him had altered the course of his entire life with her actions.

"Because you were so…"

"So what?!"

"…sad."

He froze.

"I saw you, that day, in the Ministry. You looked like a ghost, Draco."

His eyebrows pulled down, his face hardening with the memory.

"I thought that if you found out what I'd done…that it would just break you."

His eyes closed. Even then, she had cared. Her judgment may be a bit skewed, but she had cared. He splayed his fingers out on his desk and dropped his head. There was so much confusion in his thoughts.

"And after?"

"Well, the next thing I knew you were getting…you were getting…"

"Engaged," he finished for her.

When she didn't answer, he lifted his head to look at her. Her eyes were full of sadness and regret. Her mouth, lips as soft and plush as petals, turned down in a frown.

"Hermione," he whispered.

She shook her head and held up a hand, this time stopping him from speaking.

"No, Draco, don't say anything. I did this. I," she swallowed and he watched in abject misery as a tear trailed down her face, "I dug my grave and now I must lie in it."

He couldn't stop himself from lunging around her desk and pulling her up from her chair. His mouth crashed against hers, like they were teenagers again - running through the night with wild abandon. So close were their faces, that he felt each tear that leaked from the corners of her eyes; he could taste the salt on his lips. When her shoulders began to shake under his hands, he pulled back to gaze at her – this woman, his lost love.

"D-Draco, I-"

"It's okay, Hermione," he interrupted softly. "I forgive you."

Her eyes slowly rose to meet his.

"You do?"

He nodded, one shoulder lifting up in a shrug. "I understand why you did it. Truly, I do. I only wish that we could have at least, you know-"

"Tried?"

He nodded, a sad sigh exhaled from between his lips as he stepped back. Her eyes followed his movements as he reached into the inner pocket on his jacket and extracted his wand.

"What are you-"

Her eyes widened in understanding.

"You've got to forget me, Hermione," he said, his voice soft as he lifted his wand. "I heard it all from Potter."

"Harry?" Her voice was a whisper.

Draco nodded. "He didn't know, of course, that I was that boy from the ball. He mentioned off-handedly one day that you had never settled down with anyone, that you were pouring yourself into your work, that you had stopped coming round Godric's Hollow for holidays." His voice dropped in volume. "He said that you had never gotten over that 'mystery' boy from the Masquerade – that your heart was stuck in that year and you had never moved passed it."

Hermione scoffed. "That's ridiculous. You think all of these years I never got over you? Draco, please."

Grey eyes bored into brown. "You're lying, Hermione. You always bite your lip when you lie."

He didn't give her another chance to argue.

"_Obliviate_."

Draco was out of her office before she could remember he had been there.

He nodded his head to Neville as he left the castle, walking towards the end of the anti-apparition barrier –

A red handkerchief in his hand.


End file.
